


Playground Crush

by moondragon23



Category: Psych
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondragon23/pseuds/moondragon23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton finally figures out the reason Shawn has been playing tricks on him all these years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realizations

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Psych or any of its characters. All other publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> I know Shassie Week was awhile ago, but I didn't find out about it until late. Then my new job and getting sick got in the way of writing this. But I still wanted to share it with everybody and hoped you would forgive me for being late.
> 
> I read something similarish to this once, but I put my own twist on it. To me, it seems incredibly obvious if you look at how Shawn acts in the earlier seasons.
> 
> Enjoy.

Carlton looked over the case file. Someone had broken into the Stevens' residence and stolen a collection of rare, first edition books. The thief had also killed the Stevens' housekeeper, who Carlton suspected had interrupted the theft. The alarm had been tripped and police arrived less than ten minutes later, but the killer was already gone.

Carlton suspected it was an inside job. The residence was large, and for the thief to have gotten in and out so quickly meant he had to have known exactly where the books were being kept. The husband had just taken out a new insurance policy on the books, making him the most likely suspect. Problem was, he had an alibi. But Carlton was still sure he was involved somehow. He'd have to look more closely into Mr. Stevens' friends and family to see if he could find an accomplice.

He would also alert local pawn shops and used book stores in case any of the stolen books turned up. For that he would need a detailed list of which books were stolen.

He reached for a pencil to make a note to call Mr. Stevens about the books, but couldn't find one sitting on his desk. He slid open his drawer and reached inside. He was still focused on the file so took him a few seconds to realize something was missing. Several _somethings_ in fact. A quick search proved his desk was devoid of every pen, pencil, marker and highlighter. Even the crayons he kept on hand in case he had to distract children were missing.

Someone had removed every single writing utensil from his desk and he had a pretty good idea who it was.

Slamming the drawer shut, he got up and headed over to O'Hara's desk. His partner was working on something on her computer, but looked up when he stopped next to her. “Need something, Carlton?”

“Could I borrow a pen?” he asked. “Somehow all of mine seem to have disappeared.”

O'Hara tried to hide a smile. “Of course.” She held a bright pink pen out to him. He took it reluctantly, hoping the ink wouldn't be as eye-watering as the outer cover. “It's not going to bite,” she said teasingly.

“It's pink.” The ink proved to be a normal black color. He quickly made his notes and handed it back to her. He'd check the supply room later to see if the hoarders had left anything. He didn't know why anyone needed twelve boxes of pencils but he was tired of the looks he got when he complained to the station manager about it.

“It wouldn't make you any less of a man to use it,” O'Hara said, dropping it back into the cup on her desk with the others.

“I'll pass.”

O'Hara gave him a suffering look but let the matter drop. “I don't remember seeing Shawn around today,” she said instead.

“He probably snuck in while we were down in interrogation,” Carlton said irritably. “Even when I don't see him, Spencer still manages to be an insufferable pain in the ass.”

“I think it's kind of cute,” O'Hara said with a grin. “It reminds me of this boy I knew in grade school. He would pull my hair, put frogs in my backpack, and steal my notebooks. He didn't stop until my brothers had a talk with him.”

Carlton winced. O'Hara talked about her brothers a lot and he didn't envy that kid. “Did he ever say why he was picking on you so much?” Maybe he could get some insight into why Spencer had become so fixated on him.

To his surprise, O'Hara started to blush. “It turned out he had a crush on me.”

There was a pregnant pause, during which time O'Hara refused to look anywhere near him.

“Are you implying _Spencer_ has a crush on me?” Carlton asked incredulously.

O'Hara laughed nervously. “Of course not. It must be something else. I mean, Shawn's straight, so it wouldn't make any sense.” She didn't sound very convincing and she still wouldn't look at him.

Carlton sighed in disgust. “How about instead of indulging in deranged fantasies, you concentrate on this case?” He thrust the file at her. “Contact Mr. Stevens and get a detailed list of all the books that were stolen.”

“Right away.” She took the file, giving him a quick, uncertain glance before reaching for the phone.

Carlton shook his head. His partner was out of her mind. There was no way Spencer had a crush on him.

He headed towards the supply room. Hopefully he would get lucky and there would be something left in there. He thought he remembered seeing a couple of boxes left last week when he had to replace his stapler. Yet another thing Spencer had stolen from him. He wondered why the psychic only stole things from him and never anybody else. Maybe Spencer really did have a thing for him.

“Get real, Carlton,” he muttered. He went into the room, quickly locating the pens right where he remembered them.

The whole thing was stupid. Spencer couldn't like him. All those flirty looks and sly comments were just a joke.

Right?

They had to be. If not, then Spencer definitely had a crush on him. And he certainly didn't want that.

Right?

He froze there, box in hand, at the realization maybe he _wouldn't_ mind if Spencer was interested in him. It wouldn't be the first guy he had been attracted to, or even the first one he dated. Spencer was certainly good looking and he suspected a lot smarter than he acted. Spencer was funny, even if he refused to laugh at his jokes most of the time out of principle. If he didn't act so immature most of the time, he would be just the sort of guy  Carlton could see himself falling for.

In a daze, Carlton walked back to his desk. He threw the pens into his draw er and just sat there, staring blankly at its surface. He prayed Spencer would remain absent for the rest of the day. He honestly did not know how he would react if he saw the man  right  now.

“Carlton?”

He jumped, looking up to see O'Hara standing there, frowning at him. “Are you ok ay ?”

“Fine,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and pointed at the folder in her hand. “You get that list?”

“Yes. I assume you want it passed around so see if any of the stolen merchandise shows up?” she asked.

He was glad he had a partner he didn't need to spell things out to, even if  she had put this stupid crush idea in his head in the first place. “ Yes. Also keep an eye on eBay and Craig slist . The really rare books he'll have to go to a dealer for but the less valuable stuff he may try to dump anonymously online.”

“Good idea. I'll make copies for us to pass out.” She hesitated before leaving, looking at him with concern. “Are you sure you're ok ay ?”

“Yes, O'Hara, so quit asking,” he  snapped irritably. “I want to check on the neighbors, see if they saw anything suspicious.  We'll head out as soon as you're done.” He grabbed his coffee cup and headed for the break room. Once he was out of sight, he sighed, leaning against the counter.

He needed to get things wrapped up quick so he could go home, open up a bottle of Jack Daniels, and figure out what he's supposed to do now.


	2. Response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing ended up much longer than I thought. I had way too much fun coming up with annoying pranks that would get Shawn all riled up :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Shawn groaned as he rolled over, the shrill tones of _Wannabe_ by the Spice Girls blaring from his phone. He did _not_ remember setting that as his ringtone, or even  owning the song. He blindly grabbed for the offending device that had pulled him from his sleep and answered it. He took a moment to enjoy the blessed silence before speaking. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Gus?” He cracked open his eyes and squinted at the clock on his night stand. “Why are you calling me at 10:18 in the morning? You know there was a John Hughes marathon last night.”

Gus sighed noisily. “You were supposed to be at the office by ten to meet with a new client, remember?” he asked in annoyance.

“ Right.” Shawn forced himself to sit up,  suppressing a yawn. A quick examination of his alarm clock showed he had set the time, just never turned it on.  He climbed out of bed  and started looking around for his pants. “I'm on my way.”

“Hurry up. This woman is really creepy,” Gus muttered into the phone. Shawn could hear a high-pitched voice in the background asking when the “stupendous, wonderful psychic” would be arriving. “Any minute now,” Gus told her. “Dude, you owe me for this,” Gus added quietly.

Shawn winced  in sympathy as he struggled to pull his pants on one handed. “Ten minutes, tops.”  He hung up the phone and finished dressing as quickly as he could.

He grabbed his helmet, keys, and wallet and ran out the door to his bike. He stopped short a few feet away, then slowly approached it, hoping  for the first time in his life he was hallucinating.

Someone had attached pink tassels to the ends of his handlebars. A white wicker basket was hooked on the front. Stickers ranging from pink and red hearts to unicorns and butterflies covered the paint job.

He took a deep breath, struggling to keep his temper under control. Besides the fact someone had girlified his baby, it would cost him a few hundred dollars to get those stickers removed and the bike repainted. Someone was going to pay for this.

Later. Right now he had a best friend to rescue. He would just have to hope nobody saw him until he could get his baby fixed. He hopped on his bike and took off for the Psych office.

 

* * *

 

He arrived nine and a half minutes later, parking around back to hide his bike from view. He took a moment to fix his hair before hurrying inside.

“Gus?” He stopped short when he entered the main room. A young woman was sitting cross-legged on a rug in the middle of the office. Her eyes were closed and her hands were resting on her knees, palm up.

Gus crossed quickly over to him. “Dude, I'm glad you're here,” he said quietly. “She started meditating as soon as I told her you were on the way. She wanted to make sure her aura was pure.” He gave Shawn a look implying just how crazy he thought that was.

“You were the one that agreed to meet with her,” Shawn reminded him.

“But she seemed so normal at the coffee shop,” Gus said, glancing at the woman as she started to hum softly.

Shawn narrowed his eyes. “What was she drinking?” he asked suspiciously.

“One of those green fruit smoothies,” Gus said hesitantly.

Shawn tsked loudly. “Man! You were at a  _coffee shop_ and she was drinking that? And it didn't tip you off?”

“She's hot, Shawn, and those smoothies are both healthy and delicious,” Gus said defensively.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.” Shawn walked over to the woman and crouched down in front of her. “Hello. . . ” he trailed off and looked over at Gus.

“Sylvia,” Gus hissed.

“Sylvia,” Shawn continued. “I'm Shawn.”

The humming stopped. Sylvia opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I know. You have a very unique energy signature.”

“Yes, I've been told that before.”  Shawn glanced over at Gus, who motioned for him to keep talking. “What can I do for you?”

She unfolded her legs and gracefully rose from the floor. Shawn struggled to rise with her. “It's my boyfriend. I think something is wrong with him. He hasn't been acting like himself lately.”

“Have you tried talking to him?” Shawn asked.

Sylvia nodded. “He keeps saying everything is fine.”

“Maybe he's stressed by his job,” Gus suggested. “You said he was a lawyer.”

“Yes. He just made partner at his law firm,” she said proudly.

“It takes time to adjust to a new job. I'm sure everything will be fine in a few weeks,” Shawn assured her.

Sylvia shook her head. “It's more than that. His energies have seemed all wrong lately, and sometimes he almost acts like he is hiding something.”

Shawn shot Gus a look. Trust his friend to fall for a girl with a boyfriend who was most likely cheating on her. “My skills run more to the physical plane than spiritual,” he lied, hoping he could get out of this. “I'm not sure how much I can help.”

“Please Shawn? I know you've helped so many other people with their problems. I'm sure you can help me as well.” She clasped her hands together and looked at him pleadingly.

Shawn sighed. He hated that look when it was used against him. “Why don't you take a seat and tell me about it?” He lead the way over to the window and sat in one of the chairs. Sylvia sat down across from him.

Gus leaned against the back of Sylvia's chair. “Go on. Tell us all about it,” he said in his 'smooth' voice.

As Sylvia smiled up at his friend, Shawn shot Gus a disapproving look. Sylvia turned back to him and he quickly smiled at her. Over her shoulder, Gus gave him an 'I don't need your approval, Shawn' look.

“Well, it started a few weeks ago, right after he made partner,” Sylvia said. “He would occasionally stay late at the office, but it started happening almost every night. Sometimes he seemed upset when he came home and would bring me gifts to make up for not spending time with me.”

_Typical signs of a cheating boyfriend._ “Have you noticed any other strange behavior? Any odd phone calls or rushing off at strange times for meetings?” Shawn asked.

Sylvia nodded. “He gets calls sometimes from a woman. I think it's his secretary.” She looked at him worriedly. “You don't think he's going to lose his job, do you?”

“No, I don't think it's his _job_ he's going to lose,” Shawn said. He shifted forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees. “Tell me, Sylvia, are you two happy together?”

“Of course we are,” she said, sounding confused. “That's why I'm so worried about him.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I think someone at work is jealous of his promotion and poisoned his aura. I checked his office, but I didn't find any obvious talismans. My friends and I are holding a healing circle for him this weekend to cleanse his aura. We'd really like it if you came.”

“I'm not sure how much help I'd be,” Shawn protested. “Like I said, my powers are more physical than spiritual.” The last thing he wanted was to get involved with a group of women unknowingly about to out a cheating boyfriend.

“Just your presence would be helpful,” Sylvia insisted. “Your energies are very suited to healing works and would help strengthen our circle. Plus, the girls would feel more confidant with you there. They aren't as versed in these things as we are,” she added conspiratorially.

He looked at Gus helplessly. His friend shook his head vehemently; not even _he_ wanted to get involved in this for a girl.

He looked back at Sylvia and her damned pleading expression and sighed. “What time this weekend?”

She jumped up and wrapped Shawn in a hug. “Thank you so much,” she said happily. “We're meeting at ten am at my home.” She grabbed a piece of paper out of her bag and scribbled an address on it. “Thank you again for doing this, Shawn,” she said earnestly. She went over to her rug and quickly rolled it up, stuffing it into her large bag. She swung it up onto her shoulder and turned to Gus. “I hope we see you there as well, Burton.”

Gus shrugged noncommittally. “Shawn's the psychic. I just assist him.”

_Man,_ _I_ _really wish_ _I_ _had_ _ **that**_ _on tape._ “Don't sell yourself short, Gus,” Shawn said. If he was forced to go to this thing, no way was his friend getting out of it.

“I'm sure you do much more than just assist,” Sylvia said in agreement. “I really think you should join us.”

“I'll try,” Gus said reluctantly.

Sylvia beamed at the two of them. “Then I'll see you both on Saturday.”

Shawn and Gus exchanged a look after she left. “That is one 'healing circle' that isn't going to end well,” Shawn commented. He sat down at his desk and started digging through the drawers, looking for something to snack on.

“You know that's right.” Gus nodded his head towards the window. “Why didn't you park out front?”

“Someone vandalized my bike,” Shawn said, all the anger and frustration from this morning surfacing again.

“What? Really?” Gus asked in shock.

“No, I made it up because it's such a funny idea,” Shawn said scornfully.

“How bad?” Gus asked.

Shawn sighed. “Mostly cosmetic but I don't want to be caught riding it until it's fixed.”

Now Gus looked intrigued. “What exactly did they do to it?”

Shawn waved towards the back. “Go see for yourself.” As Gus walked away, he resumed the search of his desk. He was sure he had hidden a bag of Doritos in here earlier this week.

He didn't find the Doritos, but he did find a bag of dried plantain chips. “What the hell is a plantain?” he muttered, staring at the bag. He threw the bag on the desk and kept searching. There should be a package of Oreos in the bottom left drawer.

Instead, he found a package of rice cakes. He made a face at the dry-looking discs. “That doesn't even look remotely appetizing.” He put the bag next to the plantain chips and glared at the two of them. He didn't like where this was going.

He pulled open the bottom right drawer, where he always kept an emergency package of red vines. He wasn't surprised to find that missing as well. He pulled out the yellow and green package and read it. “Seaweed?! Are you kidding me?”

“What's this about seaweed,” Gus asked, entering the room.

Shawn gestured at the abominations on his desk. “Please tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

Gus picked up the seaweed and examined it. “Where did it come from?”

“Someone replaced all my snacks with these 'healthy alternatives',” he said irritably.

“That sucks, man,” Gus said. Shawn studied him closely, but his friend seemed sincere.

“Someone is out to get me, Gus,” Shawn said. “First my phone, then my bike, now my snacks.”

“Don't you think you're overreacting?” Gus asked.

Shawn glared at him. “You saw my bike.”

“And I agree that was a horrible thing for someone to do,” Gus said. “But that doesn't mean the rest of it is related.”

“So you think two people are out to get me at the same time?” Shawn scoffed. “What about Macon's Razor?”

“I think you mean Occam's Razor,” Gus corrected, “and since when do you believe in the simplest solution to a problem?”

“Since someone is out to get me,” Shawn explained. He looked sadly at the snacks on his desk. “Now I'm going to starve to death and my best friend doesn't even care.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “If I take you to get a smoothie, will you stop thinking the world is out to get you?”

“Not the whole world, Gus, just one person,” Shawn mumbled. But he wasn't about to turn down a free smoothie, so he followed Gus out to the car.

* * *

During the short ride to their favorite smoothie place, Shawn tried to figure out who was doing this to him. Juliet had been pestering him about eating healthier lately, but he didn't think she would have messed with his bike. His dad hated the bike, but he didn't have the technical know-how to change the ringtone on his phone. He doubted Henry even knew who the Spice Girls were. Gus had the knowledge and the access to everything but his surprise back at the office had been genuine. He briefly considered Lassiter, but also ruled him out. He didn't think the detective was creative enough to come up with such an elaborate plan.

By the time he got out of the car, he was no closer to figuring out who was messing with him other than it wasn't the most obvious suspects.

They went inside and ordered, Gus getting a mango smoothie and a blueberry muffin, Shawn his favorite pineapple smoothie and a chocolate chip muffin. He flirted with the girl behind the counter as Gus paid and was starting to feel better.

Until he took the first sip of his smoothie.

He immediately gagged, looking at his drink with disgust. He stomped back over to the counter, ignoring the line of people waiting to order, and slammed his drink down. “What is _this_?”

“Your smoothie,” the girl said slowly.

Shawn glared at her. “This is _not_ what I ordered. I asked for a pineapple smoothie, not this awful concoction.”

The girl glanced at the line of customers behind him before lowering her voice. “Look, I was just doing what the guy paid me to.”

“What guy?” he asked. “I demand to know who ordered you to poison me.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “I didn't poison you.” She motioned for Shawn to lean forward so the other people on line wouldn't hear them. “Look, a kid came in this morning with a note and twenty bucks. Some guy wanted me to switch out your smoothie with the banana-squash flavor of the month.” She shrugged. “It's the first one we've actually had anyone buy.”

“Did the kid say what the guy looked like?” Shawn asked urgently.

“Just that he was tall and wearing a suit,” she said.

That didn't really narrow it down any. They were pretty close to downtown and half the customers here were wearing suits. “Anything else? Do you still have the note?” A glimpse of the handwriting might help give him a clue.

She shook her head. “I threw it out. And I didn't exactly question the kid too hard. I'm not going to turn my nose up at twenty bucks.” She looked at him guiltily. “I can make you up a fresh smoothie.”

“No thanks. I'm lost my appetite.” Shawn turned away, gesturing to the person who had been waiting impatiently behind him to order. “She's all yours.” Ignoring the man's angry retort, he went to where Gus was waiting for him by the door. “We need to go to the police station.”

“Over a smoothie?” Gus asked skeptically.

“Over everything,” Shawn said, waving his arms. “This has gone on long enough. I want this guy caught.”

“I still think you're overreacting,” Gus said. “It was just a smoothie.”

“And was it just my bike as well?” Shawn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess that would be considered vandalism,” Gus said reluctantly. “Fine. I'll drive you.”

“Then let's go,” Shawn said, grabbing Gus's arm and dragging him out to the car.

* * *

He twisted impatiently in the seat as Gus drove to the police station. “Can't you go any faster?” he whined.

“I'm going the speed limit, Shawn,” Gus said.

“Everyone knows that's just a suggestion. Besides, we're in the Blueberry,” Shawn reminded him, patting the dashboard. “Do you really think the cops will pull _us_ over?”

“Yes. As the six hundred dollars in speeding tickets last month proved,” Gus said irritably. “Which is why _I'm_ driving and not you.”

Shawn sighed dramatically and slumped in the seat. There was no arguing with Gus when he was in this mood.

Finally, after what felt like years, they arrived at the station. Shawn jumped out of the car and was halfway up the steps before Gus had even unbuckled. “Hurry up!”

“The cops aren't going anywhere, Shawn,” Gus snapped. He joined Shawn on the stairs and the two made their way inside.

As soon as they walked in, Gus's cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then looked apologetically at Shawn. “I have to take this.”

“Come on, really?” Shawn complained.

“You don't need me to hold your hand while you fill out the report,” Gus retorted. He turned his back on Shawn and headed outside before he could respond.

“Some friend you are,” Shawn muttered. “I would never abandon you in _your_ hour of need.” He glanced around the station, looking for his two favorite detectives. He spotted Juliet at her desk and hurried over to her. “Jules!”

She glanced up at him. “Not now Shawn.”

“But Jules! I need your help,” Shawn whined.

“Maybe later,” Juliet said. “Carlton has been running me ragged all morning. I don't have time to deal with any of your nonsense.” She collected up a pile of files and headed down towards the record room.

“It's not nonsense this time,” Shawn promised.

Juliet sighed. “Look, Carlton has me checking files for a case we're working on. Maybe when I'm done I can help you.”

Shawn pouted. “Fine, I guess I'll just wait then,” he said sulkily.

“Thanks.” She flashed him a smile before hurrying down the stairs.

Shawn sighed and made his way to Lassiter's desk. Since he was here and the detective was obviously busy with something, maybe he could snoop around and find a case to work on.

He sat down at the detective's desk and picked up the case file sitting there. Some guy had had a bunch of valuable books stolen from his house and his housekeeper killed. It looked like Lassiter had initially suspected the husband, but the man had an alibi. Mr. Steven's friend was the next most likely suspect. The man was in a financial bind and knew the house intimately. Unfortunately, he too had an alibi.

A couple of the books had turned up yesterday at a used book store. The owner said the person selling them was a teenager, tan with dark brown hair. _Not much of a description to go on._

He continued looking through the file. He frowned when he noticed that both Mr. Steven's and his friend belonged to the same country club. A caddy working at that club would certainly be tan and he knew from experience they generally hired young people for caddies. It wasn't obvious but still something Lassiter would normally had noticed. Something must be going on with the detective if he had missed it.

He glanced around the desk, smiling when he noticed the red pen. It looked like Lassiter had replaced the pens Shawn had 'borrowed' earlier that week. He grabbed it to make a note on the file to taunt the detective. When he clicked it, red ink shot out of it and all over his shirt.

“Damn it!” he cursed, dropping the pen and grabbing a handful of tissues. He wiped at his shirt, but the ink had already stained the fabric. He growled under his breath. This was one of his favorite shirts too.

“Problem Spencer?”

He turned to see Lassiter approaching him with a smirk on his face, holding a cup of coffee.

Shawn pointed to the desk. “Your pen seems to be broken.”

“Imagine that. Good thing I have plenty of spares,” Lassiter said dryly. “Now get out of my chair.”

Disgruntled, Shawn stood up and slapped the file against the detective's chest. “By the way, check the caddies Stevens and Philips normally used at the country club. Whichever one hasn't been into work in the last few days is the thief.”

Lassiter fumbled to grab the file, quickly putting down his coffee. “The caddy?”

“A place like that hires young kids to be glorified grunts for their club members,” Shawn explained. “They also aren't paid very much. He would be the perfect pawn for Philips to use to rob his friend's home and still have an alibi.”

Lassiter quickly glanced over the file. “How do you know all that?”

Shawn shrugged. “I worked as a caddy for two weeks in LA before I got fired for jumping a golf cart into the lake.”

Lassiter raised an eyebrow. “Jumping a golf cart?” He shook his head. “Never mind.” He closed the file and grabbed his coffee. “Thanks Spencer.”

Shawn watched as the detective crossed to Juliet's desk, trying to understand what had just happened. Had Lassiter actually just _thanked_ him for something?

The sound of someone calling his name interrupted his thoughts.

“Shawn Spencer? I have a pizza delivery for Shawn Spencer.” A teenager holding several pizza boxes was standing by the entrance, peering around.

Shawn walked quickly over to him. “I'm Shawn, but I didn't order any pizzas.”

The kid looked at the card in his hand. “It says here six large pizzas for the Santa Barbara Police Department, courtesy of Shawn Spencer.” The kid looked up at him. “Payment on delivery.”

“Pizza? All right.” Dobson reached past him and took the top two boxes off the pile the kid was holding. “Thanks Shawn!”

More officers appeared, either drawn by the smell or the word 'pizza.' They quickly divested the kid of the rest of them, all making sure to thank Shawn as they passed.

Shawn forced a smile on his face, though he was seething inside. He wondered how much more money his mysterious prankster was going to cost him by the end of the day. When they cleared out for an impromptu pizza party in the break room, he was left with the kid. “That will by $84.17,” he said expectantly.

“For six pizzas?!” Shawn exclaimed. “Isn't there some kind of police discount?”

The kid tilted his head. “You don't look like a cop.”

Grumbling, Shawn pulled out his wallet. He had borrowed some money from Gus yesterday, but that still left him twenty six dollars short. “Hold on,” he said, digging through his pockets. He produced a few more coins, dropping them into the kid's hand.

“Look, do you have the money?” the kid asked nervously. “Because my boss is going to yell at me if I come back short again.”

“I'm working on it,” Shawn said, thinking furiously. Of course Gus would be outside right now so he couldn't borrow any more money from him. He could ask one of the officers for help, but he didn't think it would go over too well after he had so 'graciously' ordered them all pizza. He had some pride after all.

“Is there a problem?” Lassiter asked, walking over to them.

“No problem,” Shawn said quickly. He didn't need to give the detective another reason to look down on him.

“I don't think he has enough money,” the kid said, flinching slightly under the glare Shawn gave him.

Lassiter glanced at Shawn, then took out his wallet. “How much?”

“About thirty bucks.”

Shawn watched in surprise as the detective pulled out a couple of twenties. “Here,” he said, handing the kid the money. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir,” the kid said with obvious relief.

Shawn eyed Lassiter speculatively as the delivery guy walked away. “Thanks,” he said slowly.

Lassiter shrugged. “It was a nice thing to get everyone pizza like that.”

Shawn snorted. “It would have been nicer if I had been the one to place the order.”

Lassiter smirked. “I know the feeling.”

Suspicion turned to certainty in Shawn's mind. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the detective's arm and dragged him down to the interrogation rooms. He didn't let go until they were safely inside, away from any possible witnesses. He crossed his arms and glared at the detective. “ _You_ ordered the pizzas.”

Lassiter straightened the sleeve Shawn had wrinkled, not quite meeting his eyes. “You don't have any proof of that.”

It wasn't a denial, which was all the confirmation Shawn needed. “Were you behind all of it? The pen? The smoothie? My phone?” His face hardened. “My _bike_?”

Lassiter looked guilty when he mentioned his motorcycle. “I'll cover the cost to repair the damages. I'll even pay for that custom paint job you've been wanting.”

“How did you know about that?” Shawn asked, momentarily side-tracked.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “The whole station knows. You and Guster are not exactly quiet when you discuss things while you're here.”

Shawn felt it was important that Lassiter had remembered that fact but he wanted to get to the heart of the other issue first. “Why the sudden desire to prank me?”

“You prank me all the time,” Lassiter pointed out.

Shawn waved a hand dismissively. “That's different.”

“Is it?” Lassiter crossed his arms, studying him thoughtfully. Shawn fought not to squirm under his gaze, uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny. “O'Hara recently came up with an interesting theory,” he said casually.

“Do tell.” Shawn leaned back against the wall next to the door, making himself appear relaxed.

“She mentioned a boy she knew when she was a kid. He used to pull her hair and put frogs in her backpack. She thought he hated her.” Lassiter shook his head, watching him carefully. “Turns out he liked her.”

Shawn shrugged, doing his best not to tense up at the detective's story. “So the kid was stupid. What does that have to do with us?”

“I think you know,” Lassiter said quietly.

Shawn wet his lips nervously, his mouth suddenly dry. “You really think I have a crush on you?” He forced himself to laugh. “Seems a bit out there even for me.”

“O'Hara's a good detective,” Lassiter said, still watching him closely. “She's usually right when it comes to this kind of thing.”

Shawn looked away. There really wasn't much of a point denying it anymore. Lassiter knew how he really felt. He waited for the shouting to start, the threats to toss him out of the station or to shoot him if the detective ever saw him again. But Lassiter just stood there quietly, watching him.

In fact, the detective had not given any indication how _he_ felt about this.

The clues started to fall into place. Lassiter thanking him for helping with the case. Lassiter helping to pay for the pizza, even when it was his prank. Lassiter looking guilty for damaging his bike. Lassiter remembering something he had overheard Shawn say to Gus several weeks ago. His mind supplied the obvious conclusion, but he couldn't quite believe it.

Shawn straightened up from the wall and turned to face the detective. “Why did you pull all those pranks on me?”

This time it was Lassiter's turn to look away. He cleared his throat, staring at the far wall. “Since you were only willing to communicate in such a juvenile manner, I had to do the same.”

Hope flared as Shawn read between the lines at what Lassiter was implying. He moved closer until he was standing right in front of the detective. “And if I was willing to discuss things in a more adult manner?” he asked quietly.

Lassiter met his gaze. “I would ask if you wanted to have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

Shawn took a deep breath, dropping his eyes to the front of Lassiter's shirt. “You have something there,” he said, pointing. When Lassiter looked down, he slowly moved his hand up and tapped the detective on the nose with one finger. “Made you look,” he said softly.

A smile broke out on Lassiter's face. “Eight o'clock?”

“Fine with me.” Shawn glanced at the door to make sure they were still alone, then leaned forward and kissed him.

His mouth muffled the sound of Lassiter's surprised gasp. Lassiter's lips were warm and dry against his and tasted faintly of coffee. After a couple of seconds he felt the detective relax, his hands coming forward to rest on either side of Shawn's hips. Shawn wrapped his arms around Lassiter's neck, pulling the detective closer to deepen the kiss. He shivered as Lassiter growled softly and held Shawn tightly against him.

Neither man pushed to take it any further, both more than happy with the slow and passionate kiss they were sharing. The kiss seemed to last forever, though it was probably only a few minutes later when they broke apart, both breathing heavily.

Shawn rested his head against Lassiter's shoulder, unwilling to lose contact just yet. “If I had known just kissing you would be that good, I would have resorted to adult speak months ago.” He laughed wryly into Lassiter's shirt. “It would have also saved me a paint job and eighty dollars worth of pizzas.”

“It was actually only fifty-eight dollars worth of pizza.”

Shawn looked up, relaxing when he saw the detective's warm smile. “My mistake. I guess I'll have to pay you back for that.”

“You already did,” Lassiter said, kissing him gently.

Shawn let himself enjoy it for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. “As much fun as this is, we should probably head back. They probably think you've killed me by now and are looking for somewhere to hide the body. They might decide to come looking.”

Lassiter sighed but nodded. “Though I would never murder someone at the station. Too many potential witnesses and the body would be discovered sooner rather than later.”

“It should bother me that you have apparently thought this through before.” Shawn opened the door and lead the way back upstairs. “I hope there's some pizza left. I'm starving and I _did_ pay for it.”

“Most of it,” Lassiter corrected. “I'm sure they put some aside. They love you around here.”

Shawn didn't miss the hint of jealousy in the detective's voice. “Hey, I'm sure they saved some for you too.”

“Maybe,” Lassiter said skeptically. By now they had reached the bullpen and were standing next to the detective's desk.

Shawn frowned as he turned to face Lassiter. The detective was highly respected at the station, despite his gruff personality. Not that Shawn was bothered by it; he personally found the way Lassiter growled at everyone adorable. Yet people still turned to him for help and followed his orders eagerly in the field. He didn't understand why Lassiter didn't see that.

Before he had a chance to argue the point, McNab came over to them, carrying a plate with two slices of pizza on it. “Shawn! I was hoping you were still here.”

“Hey, Buzz.” Shawn paused as he caught the delicious smell of warm pineapple and cheese. “Is that Hawaiian pizza?” he asked hopefully.

McNab nodded. “I saved the last two slices for you.”

Shawn eagerly accepted them from McNab and took a huge bite of the first slice. He moaned slightly as the delicious taste of warm pineapple, gooey cheese and moist ham exploded over his taste buds.

Lassiter shook his head, giving Shawn a look that clearly said 'I told you.'

McNab turned to the detective. “We put a couple of pieces aside for you as well, sir. You like meat lover's, right? I can change it if that's not what you want,” he said anxiously.

Shawn grinned at Lassiter's surprised look. “Meat lover's is fine,” the detective told McNab. Lassiter glanced at Shawn, who gave him an 'I told you so' look of his own as he took another bite of pizza. He also stifled the urge to comment on Lassiter's choice of toppings; he didn't think the detective would appreciate it with McNab standing there.

“OK, great,” McNab said happily. “I have Miller keeping an eye on it, just in case. Not that I think someone would deliberately eat your pizza but they might not know it's yours. I thought it was better to be safe.”

Lassiter held up a hand to cut McNab off. “Thank you, McNab.”

The eager officer nodded and quickly walked away. _Probably to keep an eye on the pizza himself._ Shawn shoved the rest of the slice into his mouth. “I told you so,” he said to Lassiter, spraying crumbs everywhere.

Lassiter wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Please say you'll have better manners on our date.”

Shawn swallowed the last of the pizza and grinned at the detective. “Relax, Lassie. I promise I'll be the perfect gentleman.” He spotted Gus standing by the door, looking around for him. He waved at his friend before turning back to Lassiter. “Got to go. I'll see you tomorrow night.” He made sure no one was looking at them before blowing Lassiter a kiss.

Lassiter cleared his throat, blushing slightly. “Good bye, Spencer,” he said gruffly. Shawn grinned and headed across the station to Gus.

His friend looked at him suspiciously. “Why did I hear you bought the station six large pizzas?”

“Another trick by my mysterious prankster,” Shawn said. “At least he has good taste in toppings.” He started in on his second slice as they headed out the door.

“You seem in a better mood,” Gus said.

Shawn nodded. “I found out who was behind it all.” He ignored Gus's surprised look as he continued eating his pizza. “I even got a custom paint job for my bike out of it.” He threw out the empty plate, and wiped the crumbs off his shirt. “How about some jerk chicken?”

“So wait, who was it?” Gus asked.

“It's a secret,” Shawn said with a grin. “You can't be a mysterious prankster if everyone knows who you are.”

Gus let out an exasperated sigh. “You spent all morning vowing revenge on this guy and now you're not going to tell me who it is?”

“Nope.” Gus wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets. He figured Lassiter would want to keep their dating discreet, at least at first, so it would be best to keep Gus out of it for now. It would also make the reveal all the sweeter when it happened.

“Whatever, Shawn,” Gus said grumpily. He stomped over to his car and got inside.

Shawn tried to open his door, but found it was still locked. “Dude, I'm locked out.” His friend just stared sullenly forward. “I promise I'll tell you, just not right now.” Gus continued to ignore him. “I'll pay for lunch.”

“You don't have any money left,” Gus pointed out.

Shawn sighed. “I'll handle the second meeting with Sylvia by myself.”

The door unlocked. Shawn climbed quickly inside before Gus changed his mind. “We good now?”

“You promise at some point you'll explain what happened?” Gus asked.

Shawn nodded. “As soon as I can.”

Gus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “It better be good.”

Shawn relaxed as Gus pulled away from the station. He chuckled as he imagined Gus's face when he found out who he was going out with tomorrow night. “Don't worry buddy. You'll never see the end coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have my next story started for Shassie Week. I'm skipping ahead to the 'firsts' prompt, since only one other person has done one so far. I have it about a third done, so I'm really hoping to have it up next week.


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